


Bad decisions chase you

by MoonFlare427



Category: Markiplier Egos, jacksepticeye egos - Fandom
Genre: Bad Writing, Blood, Cutting, I'm Bad At Tagging, Not really though, Other, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Somewhat gorey, Way too much bad writing, glitching, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 03:17:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15306267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonFlare427/pseuds/MoonFlare427
Summary: basically a shitty vent using anti that i'll probably keep working on. If you're easily triggered by self-harm or anything like that, probably stay away.





	Bad decisions chase you

Every now and then, everything was too much. Maybe it was one of the other Egos, maybe it was nothing, but it was wrong. One thing that always made it worse was mirrors. He hated his reflection, to the point of actively avoiding reflective surfaces when he could. His reflection showed him how wrong he was, how much he was a fuck-up in every sense of the world. It showed him his scars; his constant reminders of terrible decisions. Not just the scar on his neck, but the smaller, less noticeable ones that covered his face, the ones that criss crossed his arms, his chest, his legs, reminding him of the moments when he was weakest. The moments that crept up on him in the dark of the night when he was alone, and whispered all the things that he already knew, about how he wasn’t good enough, about how he was simply a washed out, cheap copy of someone else, someone who was better than him in every sense of the word. 

Normally, it was easy enough to avoid mirrors. He didn’t have one in his old room, and the rest of them were in places he could get by without going to. That had changed, however, when the Septics moved into Ego Inc, the place where the Ipliers lived. There had been no real reason for the change, other than that it had been convenient at the time. When it came to the new room arrangement, Anti hadn’t really cared, so he had just taken the only one left, which happened to be one of the only ones with a mirror in it.

There didn’t seem to be any reason why it was specifically in this room. It was just some old mirror that hung on the left wall, taking up most of it with it’s large size and overly ornate frame. He could have moved it if he really wanted to, but he had thought it would be more trouble than it was worth at the time. However, now he was regretting his choice.

He was sitting in the middle of the bed, tracing the scars on his arms as he tried to not focus on the mirror, to direct his attention on anything else as he tried to get to sleep, or at least make it to morning. As always though, trying to avoid it only made it worse. His gaze kept drifting back to it, back to the gant, skinny figure with shadows under his eyes and scars covering every inch of his body. The image haunted him in the back of his mind, making it impossible to ignore. He always ended up staring at it, staring right into his own shadowed eyes.

Eventually the hand tracing the scars on his arms started moving up, until he was tracing the gash on his neck, head filling with more and more dangerous ideas until he snapped. Fingers fumbling, he grabbed the box cutter he had stashed away from the drawer it was in, pressing it down on his skin and roughly pulling it across the faint lines of other scars. At some part, he ended up holding it to his neck, staring at himself in the mirror. His reflection was covered in blood, enough that it should have worried him. It didn’t. Fresh cuts almost neatly lined the insides of his arms, slowly oozing out blood. The box cutter was forcefully pressed against his throat, his body glitching sporadically. With a breath, he dragged it across his skin, blood spilling out of the deep cut. By the time he had finished, the box cutter fell from his hands, which were glitching too much to hold it properly. For almost half a minute, he just stared at his reflection, watching it glitch more and more. At some point, he realised what he had done, and shakily stood up, probably heading to get Dr. Schneeps or Dr. Iplier, only to fall to his knees. His head was swimming, and everything hurt. Every glitch felt like it was tearing him apart, dragging a shrill cry from his lungs as he tried to control himself. The world was blurry, and his vision kept fracturing into pieces while he tried to force himself to stand. He could faintly hear voices, but they were muffled to the point he could barely hear them. A moment later, pounding echoed through the room. He flinched away from it, and a few moments later the door was pushed open, filling the room with piercing light. Another cry came from him when he started glitching more, cracking him apart as he slowly faded out, leaving behind the shouting and the bright lights for the cool and the calm and the quiet.


End file.
